


Drowning in Your Denial

by DefinitelyNotBees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Closeted Character, Closeted Draco Malfoy, Denial of Feelings, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, One-Sided Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, POV Second Person, Pining, Positive ending, Sad, Secret Relationship, Short, Unhealthy Relationships, journey to self love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefinitelyNotBees/pseuds/DefinitelyNotBees
Summary: Craving. Longing.Achingfor your best friend to realise he loves you. Suddenly, Draco marries a woman: Astoria Greengrass. He'll never be satisfied and you know it. Until, that is, he appears at your door. You know what he needs; you can see the fire in his eyes. You can refuse about as easily as you can stop breathing.Many guilty visits later, something has to give - you can't live in this world of half-truths and shame. Just how much will it take for you to give him up?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Drowning in Your Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning in end note.  
> Harry doesn’t cope nearly as well as he does in canon with the abuse he faced in the Dursley household. As such, he’s emotional and harbours an unhealthy love for Draco, the only person he believes may ever want him. Strap yourselves in, folks, 'cause it's about to get sad.

The golden sky blazes when you see him again. The last of the sun shines on his platinum hair like a halo. He smiles as you let him in. Again. You couldn’t say no to him if you wanted to.

You can’t help yourself. He steals your breath away, yet you cannot fully breathe in his absence. He smirks. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows how you feel, how you have always felt about him. 

Suddenly his hand is in your hair, delicately winding a look around your finger. You swallow, hopelessly lost in his smiling eyes. He makes your pain so easy to forget. The looks he gives you ache with fondness. You lose yourself in him and oh, how easy would it be to just stay there for the rest of time. 

Eventually you force yourself to avert your eyes; you cannot bear to see what domesticity could be like with him. _Would_ be, if he wasn’t married to another.

His lips brush your forehead in an affectionate kiss known only to loved ones. Your eyes fall shut for a moment as you imagine living your life by his side, dedicating yourself to him and him to you.

“Shall we pretend?” he asks, his voice a warm, dulcet whisper in your ear. 

“Yes,” you whisper, exhaling into his collarbones. He smirks, secure in the knowledge that you would never say no, never renounce his claim, his ownership over you. He pulls your hip bones to his pelvis, his body a stone wall, unyielding. You shape yourself against him as you have always done. Deft fingers lift your chin, cupping your jaw. His lips touch yours, delicate in the most tantalising of ways. You tip your head back, chasing him, leaning into the contact before he swiftly ends it like he always does. Helpless, you remain motionless as his lips leave yours. Hoping he allows you another stolen kiss. 

He steps away.

You feel the air, cold and harsh against your skin compared to the heat of his touches. You can’t bear to open your eyes, the darkness a comfort, a blanket of security. In the darkness, reality bleeds into fantasy. Draco never leaves in your fantasies.

He takes your hand in his, leading you gently to your own bedroom. He never waits for you to offer, and why would he? Why would he when he knows you will always follow?

  


The bedroom is where the game really begins. Where you give up any choice you might have had. 

_‘That isn’t healthy,’_ warns a niggling voice in the back of your mind. Deep down, you know it’s right. You tamp the thought down anyway. 

He squeezes your palm before dropping it. Another fond gesture that ties your insides in knots; _maybe this time he truly loves you. Maybe this time he’ll stay._ The door slams shut behind you both.

He doesn’t kiss you, but noses at your jawline, your neck. You do not bare your neck, nor do you respond verbally to his attentions. It’s easier to remember he doesn’t need you like you need him when he doesn’t kiss you. You meet his eyes and he is worried, worried you’re not playing along with your usual soft smiles and cheeky remarks. You force your gaze away from his icy stare before he can read you further. As a distraction, you fumble with his shirt. He tuts under his breath before transferring your hands to your own shirt. You should have known better; you must always be the first naked. You hate that bloody rule. It makes you feel so helpless. 

Your hands tremble, unable to summon the force required to lift, to bare yourself for him. Your eyes moisten. _Why can’t you stop being such a baby? It’s only taking off a shirt,_ you question desperately. There’s a tiny voice in your head that rears its ugly head: _he’s using you._

Merlin. You’d never allowed himself to even consider that before. Yanking hopelessly at the fabric which must surely be made of lead, wetness spills down your face. Draco’s eyebrows furrow in concern. He leans down, deceptively caring fingers wiping away your tears.

“I… I can’t, today, I can’t. I’m so sorry,” you sob. He shushes you like a child, pressing kisses to your hairline. You grab the crisp, well-ironed fabric of his shirt and hold on for dear life. You try to breathe deeply but his scent, usually so comforting, is too overpowering and your breath comes is shuddering gasps.

You can’t remember when the lines began to blur. Childhood best friend, to secret manhood crush, to a lover whom you loved but could never truly have. For years you took what you were given, never asking for more lest it was lost, until you finally couldn't say no. Snatched from you like your naïve dreams of – dare you even think it? – being loved in return.

Your sniffles die down, the last of your tears soak into his shoulder. All too quickly, his hands sink from your lower back to your arse. He winds a knee between your thighs, nudging them apart. You comply. He pulls your legs around his, half lifting, half dragging you to bed. ‘It’s too fast for this,’ you want to say. ‘Not yet.’ But you have tried that before, and his obvious impatience wore you down like sandpaper. You lie there. You let the duvet swallow you. 

His hands tug at your clothing and you allow it to go.

He has given up waiting for you to join in today, you realise. It’s all you can do to hold back another wave of tears.

\---

Your friends look at you with pity. 

“He’s no good for you,” they whisper. Their words echo in your head whenever you think of him. “He won’t acknowledge it. You have to get over him,” they say, voices quiet, pleading. Each time, you have a surefire response in the desire for you that he can never quite mask, that always lies just behind his eyes. 

“One day,” you always said. “One day he’ll choose me.” How confident you were.

\---

Not a word is spoken while you walk him to the door. Oddly, you feel almost as exposed with clothes as without. You have never felt discomfort under his gaze before. Merlin, probably because he ignored you when you said no! You’d never really considered whether he really had your best interests at heart before. 

You turn around. He is deeply engrossed in his thoughts, a frown etched into his face. It is baffling, how his demeanour changes. You used to feel like you were the only one who could help him out of his moods. That it was your duty to take his mind off his troubles and his wife until he was secure enough to start over with you.

Truly, there was never a more stubborn man. Even after their lengthy affair, even with Lucius Malfoy rotting in Azkaban, his mother near out of her mind with worry and loss, and there being no one left to disown him, Draco clings to his heterosexuality like a life jacket. 

Suddenly there’s a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Why _would_ he give up his family, his wife, his stature, all for you? 

You shake yourself as the penny drops: you were always going to be his dirty little secret. 

This cannot be allowed to happen again. Not for your sake, and not for his. You try to take his hand, a small comfort that will help you spit the words out. He twists it away, leaving both of your hands to fall limply to your sides. Contrary to what you were expecting, his avoidance of your contact helps you accept that this kind of relationship with him could never be healthy. 

You take a deep breath as he turns, making for the door. 

“We shouldn’t do this anymore,” you say to his back, and the weight that lifts from your chest is staggering. You have broken the unwritten rule of acknowledgement and it feels _so good_. He freezes. 

“What are you talking about, ‘this’?” Draco asks guardedly, his gaze not leaving the floor. Your silence is pointed, cutting through his charade like a knife through butter. You walk towards him and he backs away, jolting as he reaches the door like a wild animal cornered. You stop, open hands at your sides showing you have no desire to hurt him. He fumbles for the handle and wrenches it open. The hunted look in his eyes pained you but his return would inevitably break you. It had to end. 

“Come back when you’re ready to be friends,” you say. Pause. “I still love you, Draco,” you blurt out, unable to help yourself. He meets your eyes for three seconds, conveying a lifetime of angst-ridden self-denial. You almost feel bad for him. Almost. His Adam’s apple bobs and you hear the words stuck in his throat. It’s all you can do to turn away. 

The door shuts after ten seconds. Five seconds later a tear trickles down your cheek, for your heart has left with him out into the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Loss of consent but (implied) sex still happens
> 
> Thank you for reading! The ending was intended to give you a sense of hope for Harry’s journey towards self-love. I’m fairly new to writing so I'd be delighted to hear your feedback or what you thought of it :)


End file.
